#rather than “justifying her actions” or anything like that

[ninjagirlstar5]

I was in the mood to draw Minako Tomori, and so I did. I put her in this melancholic pose while dressed in casual clothes, like she's hanging out in public, but she started getting distracted by past regrets...

Her casual clothes are based off of this sprite edit I made of her for my fanfic:

There's no tattoo-covering-a-scar on her shoulder in this sprite cause I literally just came up with that headcanon yesterday and this sprite edit is almost a year old (I just never posted it until now). Not that you would've seen it that well from this angle anyways.

Her tattoo is based off of the flower, Sakurasou or the Japanese Primrose, btw. Kinda proud on how it turned out, ngl, as I'm not really that good in designing tattoos for characters. ^^;

Anyways, I made an off-the-cuff Minako Tomori analysis under the read more, oops:

I've been seeing a lot of Tomori family talk lately and that made me start thinking of Minako again as she's, well, kindof my favorite out of the 6.5 crew next to Dr. Ando (which led to me making this drawing of her). Now, I'm not defending her in how she raised Kizuna or her horrible attitude or anything like that. She's pretty horrible in DRA 6.5 and she gets called out on multiple times by Ryutaro and even Dr. Ando, and rightfully so. But man, from what I can understand in DRA 6.5, she's clearly a goddamn mess. From all the smoking she does to (badly) cope with the stress of dealing with her failure of a marriage to a shitty husband who is also a shitty dad, to constantly cheating on him cause she'd rather be anywhere but with him and can't divorce him due to collateral so she's just legally stuck with him so she goes off to find other men (usually younger but at least they're of age) to ignore her problems at home, puts importance on money because she's the only one trying make sure they have a fuckin' roof over their heads cause her husband is too busy gambling and drinking all their money away, and probably put importance on her appearance more than anything else cause it's one of the few things she can control about herself and feel confident in (and even then, she can't stop the passage of time that is old age). And all of this, plus how she interacts with Ryutaro in her Talk sections (a.k.a. her FTEs) by constantly calling him brat and trying to get him to go away, and no wonder Kizuna turned out the way she did. She had a dad that was never there for her or his wife, refusing to take responsibility for anything and just focuses on himself, and her mom is dealing with SO many things that she's constantly stressed about money and her appearance to the point that she's unable to be emotionally supportive to her daughter in any healthy manner that her flaws, her own attitude about men, and her beliefs in money and appearance is all that matters just ended up trickling down to her daughter and influencing her in a way that it turned her into the messed up girl she is in the short time we got to know her in DRA. Like, holy shit, Minako. You're an asshole of a parent, but when you really think about it, the poor woman got the short end of the stick in life and that really affected how she acted in raising her daughter. Again, not defending her as she's still a bad influence but it's hard not to pity her when she's left to do all the work herself, from parenting, to working, to just trying to take care of herself (by coping in very bad ways)...It's not an enviable position, that's for sure. But honestly, that's what makes Minako so interesting to me. She's not a good person, far from it, nor is she the "better" parent in this scenario. But she still cared enough about Kizuna to follow a suspicious note and getting kidnapped in the process, even when it had the underlying motivation of deciding that she had enough of her shitty husband and took the opportunity to run away from him. And whenever the other characters, particularly Dr. Ando, call her out on her nonsense, I think she gets struck silent in response. Like their words are genuinely getting to her and making her question the way she acts.

And you know what fucks me up the most?

The implication that, between finding out what happened to Kizuna and the rest of the class in DRA post 6.5 upon getting rescued and before the events of SDRA2, she actually changed and improved as a person. Minako, while she is gossiping in the epilogue, is a lot more nicer and friendlier here, is giving us a rundown of what happened after the Utsuroshima Killing Game and the rumors surrounding it to Midori, and making light-hearted jokes in an attempt to cheer Midori up by making fun of herself. And when Midori starts to cry over Teruya's death, Minako's sprite goes sympathetic and concerned and it fades to black for awhile and we come back to Midori reassuring Minako that she's feeling better now with the implication that Minako was trying to comfort her through her mourning. And then she gives out some pretty sound advice, even when dropping this bit in the process:

(The translation is an unofficial version and this bit of dialogue appears at the 3:55 mark.)

"...Go ahead and cry your heart out. You're still young, so you don't have to pretend you're strong."

"With age, the tears won't come even if you want to cry, so when you feel the need to cry, cry."

Which, OW to that last one.

Like, imagine going through so much shit through your life as an adult that you can't even bring yourself to cry about it. You just go, "Yep, this might as well happen," with all the apathy and frustration you can muster in your body.

And when Midori goes to leave to talk to the criminals, Minako has the sense to go "That's a bad and dangerous idea, Midori, don't go alone!" and points out that she JUST got out of the hospital and hasn't fully recovered yet. She even tries to convince her to stay by asking her to continue talking with her cause she's bored. (And, well, I can believe that, even when she's speaking some common sense.) But it clearly rubbed Midori the wrong way as she seems to want to be useful in any way she can, regardless of whether or not her life gets put in danger, so she goes anyway. Aaand Minako complains about Midori's parents not teaching her to treat her adults with "respect," and has brought up "worrying over Keisuke getting a scratch on his pretty face" earlier in conversation, which shows that she's still a flawed person. But I consider that good writing as just because she's a better person now, that doesn't mean her flaws are just going to go away or disappear suddenly. Taking away a character's flaws in order to make them a "good" person will only make them bland, boring, and flat as a paper. Flaws are meant to help characters be more nuanced in personality, and Minako still being abrasive is good as it's a flaw that is a part of her to be aware of and keeps her character recognizable despite the implication that she's trying to do better now. And when Midori gets kidnapped, she immediately runs over to Ryutaro and Keisuke to tell them what happened, calling Ryutaro "kid" in the process, and showing fear for Midori's safety. I don't know if the translation between Kid and Brat is any different, but it's a step up from brat, at least. (And honestly, I can see Minako using "kid" and "brat" as a more affectionate nickname to Ryutaro over time since she comes off as the type to show affection through teasing.) And to top it all off, the cigarettes from her DRA sprites have been replaced with lollipops in her SDRA2 sprites, and candy is a common way of trying to combat addiction to nicotine.

In other words, the way Minako acts in SDRA2 shows that she's trying to be a better person, even if that development happened between games. (And frankly, we shouldn't just stop everything in the epilogue just to have a flashback of "here's why so-and-so acts like this now!" Like, that would just kill the pacing of the epilogue and defeats the whole purpose of a time-skip between games.) It's just a shame that Kizuna's death was the wake-up call that put her on that track to growth in the first place (alongside the call-outs). It's through the death of her own daughter and what led up to it and why she acted the way she did in that moment that made her stop, take in the call outs she's been dealt with throughout the 6.5 chapter, and go, "Oh. I've been a shitty mom and that played a part in how Kizuna acted and led to her death." Cause think about it: if Kizuna was never concerned about her appearance, if she never had this belief that she had to extort others in order to benefit herself, whether it's men for money, affection, popularity, attention or anyone else for anything else, DRA's Chapter 2 probably wouldn't have happened the way that it did. It may not have prevented Kizuna from dying at some point during the killing game, but her behavior was something that she learned and inherited from Minako. And that realization had to sting for her as she not only lost her daughter but had to come to terms with the revelation that it was indirectly her fault for influencing Kizuna in a way that made her a terrible person that decided her only option to survive was to try and kill (which backfired on her hard). But unlike some people, who would double-down on their behavior or just grow worse through their grief, Minako seemed to have reflected on everything up to that point and decided to grow as a person instead. But even though Minako is trying to be a better person now, she can never make it up to her own daughter that she messed up the most. Because that chance is forever lost thanks to death itself.

Reflection is important, because if you don't do that much, you'll never realize what you've done wrong until it's too late and the chance to make it up to your loved one is forever stripped from you.

...At least, that's how I've interpreted Minako Tomori.

[forestdeath1]

People say that Sirius never realised how offensive his words were until James or Remus said it to him.

I personally disagree with this take. I think, Sirius was very aware of how offensive his words and actions were. James didn't realise, but Sirius did.

Sirius finds people's sore spots and deliberately hits them. This is not James's "morally orientated" and rather impersonal bullying, this is a deliberate way of humiliating people Sirius doesn't particularly respect. People want to believe Sirius "didn't realise" what he was doing because it's easier to love Sirius and justify their Wolfstar that way, but Sirius always understood what he was doing, unlike James. Sirius probably rarely crossed the line beyond psychological bullying, but didn't stop James from physical bullying – he found it fun. But he himself hardly participated in physical aggression, although he obviously could have, being magically and physically gifted. It seems Sirius had drawn the line for himself.

Sirius wasn’t a little stupid boy, he matured very early, he had a very good understanding of boundaries and was always very aware of where he and James were crossing those boundaries.

“Bad luck, Prongs,” said Sirius briskly.

Sirius knew about James's crush on Lily and found it even funny that she rejected him. Because Sirius understood that James often crossed the line, and Lily’s reaction was quite fair.

‘What is it with her?’ said James, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance to him. 

‘Reading between the lines, I’d say she thinks you’re a bit conceited, mate,’ said Sirius.

While James played the splendid knight in shining armor, Sirius found it all amusing. Because it was fun for him. And no one told him he was doing anything wrong, he already knew it. Remus mostly stayed quiet, sometimes making them “feel ashamed", haha. He's just much more socially anxious than Sirius, he doesn't like being "unliked." Sirius has zero social anxiety, he didn't care whether people loved him or not (besides, James loved him, what else did he need? Right, nothing).

And I think Sirius truly only respected James. Someone who Sirius truly respects, he never hurt. The moment when Sirius "hurts" Harry in book five is a pretty harsh moment, because Sirius loses respect for Harry for a brief moment because Harry turns out to be different from James. But then Sirius shows a new and even stronger respect for Harry. It's a good moment. This moment allowed Sirius to grow in his relationship with Harry.

And it's obvious Sirius respected Lily by fifth year. And after Azkaban, he "learned" to respect others (he reacted pretty gently in his argument with Molly), but his arrogance still showed sometimes (ie, he rudely cut off Hermione, not letting her finish her thought).

Anyway, what had changed with age wasn't that Sirius had realised that his words and actions were offensive. He always knew that. And he had shown even after Azkaban how cruel he could be to those he didn't respect. The only thing that changed was that Sirius started respecting random people more, instead of sitting around like a shiny royal arse.

But there is a NUANCE here. Sirius most likely always treated girls with respect by default. Idk why I just feel it :D With Hermione, they just didn't see eye to eye.

[i-am-traveling-the-multifandom]

Blood and Cheese

Warnings: S2 E1 spoilers, mentions of SA, mentions of gore and blood

So, you are telling me that HBO made b&c an accident. It was supposed to be Aemond. And they made Heleana run while Jaehaerys was being killed and her daughter safe and sound. And Alicent and Maelor wasn't even there. What the hell??!!

They turned one of the best, in fact the only well written part of the book and turned it into this piece of crap

Aemond was never involved. Daemon wanted to kill a child when Luke died because he didn't have the guts to fight Aemond. Aemond might have been the reason the dance of the dragons began but he was never the cause of b&c.

Heleana begged blood and cheese to take her life instead of her children and in the show, she offers her necklace. The entire point of blood and cheese is to show a distraught mother trying to protect her children and being forced to choose which one of her children die. And they made her simply point at her son. Book!Heleana would never. Book!Heleana had to hold the lifeless body of her eldest child that didn't even have his head. She couldn't see his last expressions, was there fear on his young face or was it pain? She would never know until these ruthless killers were found. She would rather lose her life and her sanity than her own children. And in the end, she lost them all. And that is the tragedy of Heleana the Dreamer. That is the tragedy of a mother and a queen.

Jaehaera is sleeping soundly and isn't even harmed while in the books she was a traumatized kid. She was threatened with rape by a man when she was 6 years old. She watched her twin get killed in a helpless position and could do nothing to protect him. That possibly was a driving reason of her suicide.

Maelor was present there at the time of b&c and he wasn't even born in the show. He was two years old; he was a child who saw such a brutal murder. Heleana in her mind made the right decision by offering Maelor instead of the heir to the throne but imagine how much that would have mentally and emotionally scarred him, if it wasn't for his untimely death. He was a victim of 'the greater good'. But it was never him and if he had grown up enough to even form words they would have been of pain and sorrow.

Alicent was in her room having sex with Criston Cole while in the book she had to wait knowing that her daughter and grandchildren would enter any minute and be harmed. She was helpless in those moments, and God knows what went through the mind of this woman who loved her children so much. Her trauma is undermined. She saw her bed maiden killed knowing this might be the fate of her beloved children and it was for Jaehaerys. She had to take care of Jaehaera and Maelor while her own daughter sank into a deep and dark pit of madness. She saw her daughter commit suicide because of this. Do any of us ever stop and wonder if she blamed herself for all this?

Blood and Cheese was one of the most traumatic events in the entire history of Targaryens and I will murder those who say otherwise. Not because I am team green but because I have sympathy. Sympathy for two young children forced to witness such cruelty, sympathy for a child who was inflicted with such early death, sympathy for two helpless mothers who blamed themselves for their children's doom.

And the show destroyed it. HBO destroyed everything, from the cruelty and from the trauma. And those who have never read the book will never know. Never know the cruelty of team black. Blood and cheese wasn't revenge, it wasn't a son for a son. It was pure cruelty and malice. It was the murder of a child who had never done anything wrong, and the show erased it. They never showed what extents team black could go in the name of war and revenge.

And I despise HBO for what they did. Once again, they show that team black can do no wrong, that Daemon Targaryen's actions are justifiable because he did it for his 'family'. But he didn't, like always he did this for the sake of violence, and forever will.

This season is ruined from the beginning. HBO can do nothing to make it better.

[theprettynosferatu]

CONTENT WARNING. NO, FOR REAL, READ THIS FIRST.

This story contains strong themes and graphic non-consensual sex. If you feel they might affect you adversely, skip this one.

Andrea is being tormented in college by a bigoted popular girl. Her daddy has always helped her... maybe he can help her get some justice...

CW: Incest, non-con, SA, orientation play (F-straight to bi)

I - No Expiration Date

She felt ridiculous. She probably looked ridiculous too, sitting against the wall, grabbing her knees, almost shaking, all in the middle of the hallway. Most made a point to not look at her, rushing to their classes, their dorms or wherever the hell they needed to be with such haste. Well, Andrea knew they only rushed because of her, to give themselves a plausible excuse to avoid doing the right thing and checking up on the poor, weird girl hyperventilating on the ground.

The worst part was that Andrea knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If anything, it was Kate that should be ashamed of herself, not Andrea- fuck, to say such things in these days was almost quaint in its ignorance, and if Andrea chose to make a stink, grounds for expulsion. Would it be considered a hate crime? Maybe. But going up to the dean or whoever like a poor little victim felt so… humiliating. Perhaps more so than Kate’s constant, whispered words and stories. And some idiots actually listened to her! 

Andrea supposed that was the big perk of having a rich, connected daddy. Even the most moronic and bigoted statements found an audience eager to please, if only for the unspoken promise of future gifts, recommendations, networking opportunities. Shit, even the dean might sweep the whole thing under the rug just to please her family. Andrea could feel the rage building up inside her chest, making her almost sick. Part of it was the stench of injustice that surrounded the whole deal. But most of her anger was directed at herself. It wasn’t as if any of this was new to her: she had come out in highschool. Every insult and every joke and every slur had been thrown at her a thousand times over already. 

But… college was supposed to be different. Even the teachers that saw the abuse in her younger years had told her so. It will get better. You’ll get out of here, and in college all this will be a distant memory. That hope had kept her going even as everyone forgot her name and simply called her “The Dyke” her entire senior year. But those were kids. Kate was a fucking adult. And yet, bigotry seemed to have no expiration date.

Fuck. The bullying wasn’t even fucking accurate! Andrea had been openly bi for years, but apparently the nuances of sexual orientation were irrelevant when it came to making one person the butt of every facile joke, a stepping stone to get some sweet, addicting attention. And Kate loved nothing more than attention. Good, bad, who cared? As long as the spotlight was on her, whatever hole she had in what she called a soul was temporarily filled. Fucking go to therapy, you cunt! Did daddy not hug you enough? Used dollars as a substitute for affection? Boo-hoo. It didn’t justify a goddamn thing.  

Andrea took a deep breath and managed to get up. Her Social Psych lecture was about to start, and Andrea knew she would skip it, even if she tried to fool herself for a moment, to force her legs to walk towards the classroom. Step by step, she headed for her dorm room. Fuck. Another absence. Kate was even fucking up her academic life. But what could Andrea do? Go to the professor and explain that, sorry, I couldn’t make it because the rich girl made fun of me?

She threw herself on the bed with punishing force. A miniature form of self-harm, she figured. Sometimes she hated majoring in psychology: that little voice that analyzed her actions almost made her feel like she was performing her suffering, rather than feeling it fully. And that distancing might also be a defense mechanism. Well, shit. How does one turn their brain off?

Andrea felt a pang in her chest, a familiar longing for home. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect place and money was always tight. Sure, her mother had vanished when she was barely one year old. Sure, the old place was in dire need of repairs and an update. But it was home. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself by omission. She was trying not to think of the one person that made it a home, and inevitably, in trying to suppress the idea, it came to her twice as strong. Daddy. Her father was her home, and it made her feel childish, helpless, as if she was ten and running to him whenever things went poorly. That her mind still went to him filled her with shame.

Oh, bullshit. You know damn well why you don’t want to think about him.

She couldn’t tell when it had happened, exactly. It had been something slow, growing inside her, indirectly pushing her subconscious. If she looked back at her dating history, a pattern emerged, one hidden at the time but blindingly obvious in retrospect: similar to dad, similar to dad… and then, when an errant comment by a friend (“All I’m saying is, like, for an old guy… you’re dad is kinda hot”) opened her eyes, she swerved in an attempt to escape her feelings. Different from dad, different from dad… The problem with “different from dad” was, of course, that those guys were, well, different from her dad. 

The summer before college had been the worst. She did her best to be home as little as possible.

Before she knew it, twin emotions were boiling over inside her. The first made her feel sick to her stomach, made her muscles tense up, made her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was about to leap and bite some animal’s neck. It was rage, pure and shining, clad with the garment of a righteous need for justice. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That fucking bitch. She needs to suffer. She needs to be punished. She needs to fucking learn some humility. And at the same time, the second feeling snuck up on her, traveling in the shadow of the first, mingling with it until they became one, like snakes mating. Dad. She needs to suffer, dad. Make her suffer for me. Please. Please, daddy. Do this for me and I’ll… 

Andrea snapped back to reality, horrified. She moved her hand from between her legs, not even knowing when she had started playing with herself. Fuck, she was soaked. Shame almost brought her to tears, until Kate’s sneering face popped back in her mind. She had endured enough for one day. She had earned a little bit of fantasy. Just that. It wasn’t as if she’d ever do anything about… well, anything. But she could imagine, couldn’t she? She wasn’t that much of a coward- she could dare to imagine Kate, and dad, and… 

Fuck it. Who cared if it was wrong. She needed release.

Andrea let her hand go back between her legs.

II - The Call

Mike found himself staring at his phone. His morning coffee had gotten cold, but he took a sip anyway, almost as an automatic action. He couldn’t stop playing the conversation back in his head over and over.

“Dad, I’m on my way. I need your help. I… I’ll explain…”

“Andrea, are you okay? What happened?”

“I… I’ll be there in about an hour. I kinda… I don’t want to talk over the phone. Dad, I… nevermind. We’ll talk when I get there.”

And that had been it. No clues, no hint, nothing to guide him except the tone in his daughter’s voice. She was scared, and she was suffering, and that was all that he needed to know. Whatever it was that was harming her girl, he’d move Heaven and Earth to make it better. That much he knew, deep in his heart. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the worst possible scenarios.

He tried to remain calm. Sexual assault on college campuses is… 

Mike pushed the thought away.  

Restrictions on reproductive rights have…

Snippets of news stories slapped him. The world could be a terrifying place for a young woman. But that was why they had chosen a college close to home. So Andrea could always come to him if she needed help. And she clearly needed help. Stay focused, old man. She needs you to be strong. Don’t let her see you panic. 

He needed to be strong for her. That was all he always wanted to be, more than anything: a rock, a place of stability, a North Star for the one thing that mattered in his life. They had faced the world together. They had survived poverty together. They had endured the pain of an absent mother and wife together. They had managed a retrograde high school that tormented Andrea together. She had saved his life as much as he had fostered hers. Without his girl, Mike wasn’t sure where he would be- perhaps underground. She had been the reason to dig deep, to find strength, to endure, always. 

Don’t let her see you panic.

Don’t let her see you looking at her.

He shook the intrusive thought off. Andrea needed him, not his fucked up neuroses, not the secret shame the last months of living together had awakened in him.

One hour stretched into a year, and Mike practically leaped out the door as soon as he heard the car pulling over. The first thing he noticed was his daughter’s panicked face, and that alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. The second thing he noticed was the other girl, passed out in the passenger’s seat. Andrea rushed into his arms, and he held her tight, trying to will some degree of peace into her mind. First things first.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”, Andrea sobbed.

Good. Now to do what he did best: fix things.

“Ok, so, your friend…”

“She’s not my friend.”

“What did she take? Did you take anything? Look, I’m not… I won’t get mad, I just need to know what she may have taken… is it just booze? No, couldn’t be… Benzos? Or… Christ, I don’t know what you guys take these days in college…”

“Dad! She didn’t take anything!”

“Are you sure? Maybe she went into some bathroom and did something… okay. First things. We need to call an ambulance…”

“Dad, please! Listen to me! I’ll explain everything. But we need to get her inside before anyone sees-”

“Andrea, this girl is passed out! She needs medical attention! Who knows what-”

“I know what she took because I gave it to her, okay? She’s just asleep! And she should be asleep for… maybe another couple of hours. Daddy, please… I swear I’ll explain. Just help me get her into the house, okay?”

Mike felt dumbfounded. The idea that his Andrea had roofied some other girl was so distant from his image of her, from the girl he had raised, that the contradiction felt impossible to resolve. It was a paralyzing feeling, one he couldn’t entirely put into words. All he knew was he didnt like it one bit. He was a man of action. He needed to do things, more than ponder feelings. And the thing to do, if only to escape that horrid sensation, was to get the poor girl out of the car.

They dragged Kate into the house, and laid her down on Andrea’s bed- a task that, Mike noticed, his daughter undertook with less care than he would have liked. Back in the living room, he looked at his daughter and put on his best stern face. Stern was good. It hid other ideas that came into his mind when he looked directly at Andrea.

“Explain.”

Andrea broke down in tears.

“Daddy, that girl… Kate.. she’s… she’s making my life Hell! She tortures me every day, makes fun of me, spreads rumors about me… people think… I don’t even know what they think about me anymore. So I can’t make any friends. Just like high school. It’s the same damn thing! And they all said… you said college would be different! But it’s not! Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just… I don’t know. Broken. Maybe people can smell I’m weird, or weak, or… and they know they can abuse me and mock me and… It’s not fair! And I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t thinking straight… I just put a couple of pills in her tea, and… I freaked out. I needed to feel safe, and I feel safe here… with you.”

Mike took it all in. He had to admit the sight of his precious daughter in such despair was enough to pierce any ideas of being tough he might have. And yes, it wasn’t fair. The world wasn’t fair at all. Andrea was beautiful, smart, creative… but there would always be those people who couldn’t understand someone being different, loving who they loved, being their authentic self. He got the anger. He got the frustration. He hated that Andrea had been driven to this point. But there was a big thing to address.

“Honey… I know… but you can’t just… just… kidnap someone!”

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She ran into her father’s arms, and hugged him tight.

“Daddy… I didn’t know what to do. I…”

She went silent. Mike couldn’t find the words to console her, to lecture her, to say anything at all. All he could do was feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, intuit her soft curves, take in the smell of her shampoo, her skin. It was intoxicating, and for once he let himself feel… whatever it was he was feeling. He let himself enjoy the moment, and even the sleeping girl in the bedroom seemed to fade away from his consciousness. They simply lingered, holding each other, taking it all in.

Such a moment couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. Mike forced himself to speak, to say… whatever he could muster.

“What… I don’t know what you expect me to do…”

He felt Andrea’s hands on his back holding him tighter. He felt her warm breath on his ear, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered before the words even registered in his brain.

“Daddy… please… fuck her for me. Fucking rape the cunt… show her her place. Daddy… break her with your cock. For me.”

III - Persuasion 

Andrea couldn’t tell exactly what happened to her, what shifted within herself in that embrace, what damn had finally broken in her mind. Even as her father pushed her away with a horrified look on his face, she could see him- almost as if for the first time. A veil that had been dulling her sight for so, so long had finally vanished. Yes, she saw everything so clearly now, with such simple purity, devoid of fear or shame or silly excuses. It was a bizarre sensation, to finally be able to accept without doubt or hesitation the truth, so long buried.

She wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to fuck her.

So obvious. So simple. So powerful. Andrea wasn’t going to run away from it anymore. And she could see, under the mask of horror worn by her father, beneath the shock in his eyes, something else. Stirring. 

Suddenly, Andrea felt powerful. Immense. Sexy. In control. The fact that she had become one with her secret desires and he hadn’t brought a predatory joy to her chest… and something else, both an anger and a need. In her heart she could see not just what her father was but what he could be, what he could become, what he needed to be. She could almost smell it- the strong, conquering Man suffocated by the dull veneer of morality and social norms. Yes, she felt powerful- but she didn’t need to be strong. She needed to be taken by him. She needed to bring the beast forth, somehow. To make him see himself as she saw him. To make him see her as she wanted to be seen.

She smiled inside, even as her father almost recoiled from her. It was all a game, now. One she intended to win.

In the blink of an eye her entire demeanor, her posture, the way she looked at her father shifted. For a second she was the perfect picture of innocence, of a young woman in need of rescue.

“Daddy… please… I need your help. Won’t you help your little girl? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so… so good to you, Daddy. I’ll be your good little girl. Your obedient… slutty… little daughter”, she smiled as she took one step towards her father, her body now swaying like a cat slowly approaching its prey. She took a moment to delight in the confusion in her father’s eyes, the tension increasing almost to a breaking point.

“I… what are you…”, managed to mumble Mike. Oh, it was so pathetic it became cute.

“Daddy… you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me recently? It must be so, so hard for you… to see your little girl all grown up, and you all alone… that’s not fair, is it?”, said Andrea as she closed the distance with her now paralyzed father. Oh, this was too much fun. “You have been a bad daddy in your mind, haven’t you? That sounds so painful! Knowing it’s soooo wrong to think about your little girl like that… having to pretend you don’t want to… Fuck. Your. Daughter. Oh daddy, don’t blush! Surprised to hear such naughty words coming from my cute mouth? Or… do you like me having such a potty mouth?”

Andrea, in a swift motion ran her hand over her father’s crotch. Yes. She could feel it. So hard. So warm. She was right. He was breaking.

“Feels like your daddy cock likes me talking like a dirty slut! Don’t be ashamed! I love to imagine your cock getting so hard for me… I love to know I can make it so, so happy… And only using my words! Just talking like the hopeless little fucking whore I am… for you… just knowing you can use my tight holes whenever you want… however you want… and I’ll take it like a good girl! I am your good girl, daddy. You made me, after all… you own me… you can own every inch of my slutty, smooth body…”

Suddenly, she took a step back, her eyes almost in tears. She was the very picture of anguish, of despair, of vulnerability. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words came to him. He just watched, fighting his need to hug her, to protect her, to tell her he would make everything right again.

“Daddy… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what got into me. I just feel so confused, so disoriented, and… I don’t know. It’s like I have all these feelings inside me and they get all mixed up and I can’t really tell what I feel anymore, and it hurts so much. It hurts, Daddy. And that girl… Kate… I can’t tell you how much she’s hurt me, how she has been messing with my mind and making me so miserable… and… and I guess, I’m not sure, just… I thought you could help me, Daddy. You always could help me. You always could make me feel like everything would be okay, that I wasn’t a freak, or…”

“Honey, you are not a freak! You know this. You’ve been so brave, so strong, so true to yourself, even when everyone gave you grief over it!” He couldn’t help himself anymore. He held his sweet girl in his arms.

“But I… I did a bad thing, Daddy. I brought Kate here… I couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her stop, to make her leave me alone…”

“I know. And yes, you did a… wrong thing. But that doesn’t make you a monster, or evil or anything like that, okay? We’ll… I’ll find a way… I’ll help you. I’ll… fix it, somehow.”

“Will you rape her for me? Will you punish her with your cock for hurting your little girl? I’ll be so, so good for you if you do it, daddy… I’ll be the bestest daughter ever for you!”

Mike tried to pull away before he was interrupted by the sensation of warm, soft lips on his own. Time stopped. He felt dizzy, trapped in the feeling, the scent of skin, the rush of adrenaline in his chest. He panicked as he realized he didn’t stop it in time. He didn’t stop it as time stretched. He wasn’t stopping it even as the thoughts flooded his mind. It took Mike every ounce of willpower to push his daughter away.

Oh, it was so fun to see her Daddy so confused, so aroused, so disoriented. But Kate would wake up soon. Andrea needed to land the killing blow on whatever resistance her dear dad had left.

“I’m sorry Daddy… it’s just that I love you so, so much…” One slow, seductive step towards him. “I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn’t have done that, right? Does that make me a bad girl? A bad daughter?” Another step. So close now. “I’m so, so sorry for being bad, Daddy. I’m sorry I made your cock all hard for me and teased you and used all those dirty, dirty words. Will you punish me, Daddy? Will you make me good again, show me my place? I think you should. I think you should take your cock, and-”

One final step, and Mike snapped. For the first time in his life, he slapped his daughter. Horror set on his face, and it became a mixture of bewilderment and fire when he noticed Andrea’s reaction. She was smiling.

“Mmmmh… so strong, Daddy. Do it again. Punish me. Show me you own me. Make me your bitch!”

It was over for Mike. Something primal, something awful had taken hold of him. 

His hand on her neck. Hers rubbing his cock over his pants. Her soft moans. Kisses that turned into bites. His own mumbled, jumbled words. Little cunt. Evil fucking bitch. Her words, playing off his. Your little cunt. Your good little girl. Her face against the wall. Her movements, grinding her ass against him. Her hands on his chest, pushing him back. 

So many lines crossed. Mike knew, deep down, he had broken something inside himself. Or maybe she had broken it in him. It didn’t matter. He looked down at the beautiful, perfect woman kneeling and smiling. He saw his daughter, yes, but his eyes were now different. The barrier that kept the idea of “daughter” and “sex” apart simply didn’t exist anymore. He felt adrift, caught by a whirlwind he couldn’t stop- one he didn’t want to stop. 

Victory. It looked like victory. Victory over herself, over her old fears. Victory over his attempts at doing the “right thing”. Further victory to come, as well. And it didn’t hurt that the cock that made her was a rather large one, veiny and beautiful. He tried to keep herself in check. She knew exactly what to do, which went against everything her body was screaming for her to do. No matter how much she needed to feel that cock deep inside her pussy, no matter how much she longed to taste his cum on her tongue, she would have to wait. She couldn’t risk some post nut clarity throwing further objections to her plan. She kept her mind on Kate as she licked, kissed, loved his member. She was alert, ready to stop before he went over the edge. She did let one hand slide between her legs- just a treat, and a bit of a show for Daddy. She took him deep in her throat, deeper than anyone she’d ever blown. He deserved it. He was her one true love. 

She did manage to stop herself when she felt him getting close, heard his moans getting stronger.

She stood up and simply, gently, gave his Daddy her soaked hand for him to smell. It was a promise of the pleasures to come… if he did as she asked, as she needed him to. She could see it in his eyes. He had been unleashed. Andrea smiled, and with a moan sucked her fingers clean, keeping her green eyes fixed on her Daddy’s gaze.

Punishment would finally come to the one that had wronged her.

IV - Melody of Madness

Slowly, Kate started to regain her consciousness. It was a gradual thing, messy, disoriented. The first thing she noticed was a scent- the kind of smell that tells one they’re no longer home, but in a place inhabited for years by some unknown Other. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, weighed down. She wasn’t afraid, not at that point. She was too out of it to register such an emotion.

Only when her vision cleared a bit and her body started to feel more like her own did the true horror begin. She tried to remain calm. Okay, Kate. Just… try to figure things out. You’re in a bedroom. A girl’s room, judging by the decor. Shit, did you get wasted again? Wait, no… a room, yes, but not a dorm room. Bigger than the dorms. Oh, fuck. Did I party in town? Did I black out and some random girl decided to help me?

A part of her screamed. Assuming that this was just another regrettable morning after too much liquor was only a pleasant delusion, and she knew it. As painful as it might be, she would have to face another possibility. What was the last thing she remembered? She was getting up, ready for class… then she was picking up her morning coffee… a bitter taste, more than usual, and then… nothing. 

Kate needed to get out. Wherever she was, it was not where she wanted to be, that much she knew. She’d have time to figure things out later. First, get out of bed, and then…

She couldn’t. She was bound to the bed by improvised ropes made of sheets. Her legs were open, held in place. She noticed the way the air felt on her skin. She was in her underwear. This final fact froze her for half a minute- thirty seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Finally, she screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, or things will get very, very messy for you. And I don’t want to ruin my sheets, thank you very much.”

The voice was calm. Cold, yet expressing a hint of anticipation. And it was a voice Kate would never have expected to hear in that place, not in a million years.

“Andrea?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Andrea’ today? Are you sure you don’t mean to call me one of your usual nicknames? No ‘dyke’? No ‘carpet muncher’? No ‘cunt licker’? Isn’t it interesting, how something as simple as a little bit of metal and a few sheets are enough to teach you manners?”

Metal? Kate lifted her head as much as she could. There was Andrea, holding a knife. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little, insignificant bitch! And what was it with the outfit? Black lingerie, full face of make-up, devilishly sharp stiletto heels… Kate had never seen the stupid dyke looking anything like a real woman. Huh. So she had curves hidden under her usual baggy hoodies. Good for her. But she was still a fucking loser, and Kate knew how to handle losers.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch? Let me go, now! What the hell are you thinking? People will hear…”

“Oh, don’t make a sound. I don’t want my father to…”

“Really? You brought me to your own home? You really are that stupid, huh? Let’s see what your dad thinks of his dyke daughter when she sees what you’ve done! Help! Sir, please! In your daughter’s room!”

Steps stomping outside. A man entered the room. Finally. Victory! Now the crazy dyke would get what was coming to her, and Kate would have a brand new story to bury the little cunt’s reputation even further. Maybe even hold the possibility of jail over her head.

“Andrea! What the hell is this? What are you doing?”, the man said, suitably shocked.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry! I… I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you to let me know as soon as she woke up?”

“You did. Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little girl… will you punish me later?”

“Later, yes. Now we have work to do, don’t we, baby girl?”

“Yes we do, Daddy!” she chirped before giving in to a long, deep kiss with the man.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”, laughed Andrea. “Did you think he would help you? Kate, Kate… Ignorant as always. For one, I’m not a dyke, I’m bi- not that you care, but I figured a little education can’t hurt. And another thing about me: I have the bestest Daddy in the whole world! And my Daddy would do anything for me, because I’m his perfect, slutty good girl… and he’s very, very good at training good girls! Well, maybe ‘training’ isn’t the right word. How about… ‘breaking’? You know, like a horse! And we’ll make you such a good, good girl!”

Panic set in.

“Crazy! You’re both fucking crazy!”

Kate squirmed, a scream dying in her throat as Andrea crawled on the bed, swaying like a terrible feline, giving her dad a marvelous show. She lightly touched the inside of Kate’s thighs as she made her way up… before flashing the knife in front of the poor captive’s eyes.

“If I were you”, cooed Andrea, “I’d be very, very still for this part.”

Kated hated that her body seemed to instinctively do as the fucking dyke told. She froze, every muscle locked tight. She closed her eyes, and prayed to no deity in particular. Please. Please. Make it stop.

Kate shuddered as she felt something cold barely grazing her, almost between her legs. Terrible images flashed inside her mind. I might die here. A second later, she felt air caressing her private areas. She opened her eyes, only to see Andrea’s mad smile as she held the remains of Kate’s panties in her hand, skillfully cut off her body. 

“Not the sexiest of panties, I must say. I’m a bit disappointed! But…” Andrea brought the panties to her nose and took a deep, gratifying sniff. “There’s something alluring there. Oh! You’ve never had the pleasure of smelling a nice cunt, have you? No, you’re so very, very straight… you’d never do that, right? Well, you’ve been missing out. Time to fix that.”

Andrea carefully, almost lovingly, tied the panties around Kate’s face. Every breath now was an assault, a reminder of how powerless she was. A humiliation.

“Better get used to it, you stuck-up slut. You’ll be tasting the real thing soon enough. But…” Andrea leaped off the bound body of her foe. “What am I thinking? You’re straight! So, I take it you’d enjoy a big, hard cock more than my… dyke attentions, won’t you? Well, how about some Daddy cock? Won’t you love that? I know you will.”

Andrea skipped, child-like to her father. He was watching the scene before him, almost panting. A beast ready to be unleashed.

“Look!” chirped Andrea. “He’s so, so hard for you already! You should be flattered! Well, no point delaying the inevitable, I say. Ready to feel this big cock ramming into that tight pussy, you bitch?”

“No… no, please, don’t… I’ll… I’m sorry for… for everything! Please, please, please…”

“A little late for that, you evil cunt! Now get ready to be used like the fucking cumrag you are!”

Kate tensed up and shut her eyes hard enough to make them hurt. She braced herself for pain, for agony. She tried to somehow make her mind escape somewhere, anywhere else. Wasn’t that something that happened in these situations? Some sort of protective dissociation? And yet her mind was nailed in place, as stuck to the bed as her body. She waited, shaking… and nothing happened.

“How rude of me!”, mocked Andrea. “I almost made my daddy take that pussy dry! That would hurt a lot! I could help with that situation, you know… but you’re not a filthy pervert like me, that likes cock and pussy alike… so… I have to say, I’m a bit conflicted! Wouldn’t want to make you a dyke against your will! But you can choose. Dry or dyke? Huh? Too shy to speak now, you cunt? Answer me! Dyke. Or. Dry.”

Kate couldn’t believe her ears. An image of the knife flashed in her mind. Fear took hold. Feel of pain, primal, deep. The promise of less pain seemed like an imperative, and her mouth spoke before she could stop it.

“Dyke…” she mumbled.

“Sorry? I couldn’t quite hear that”, saud Andrea.

“Dyke! Dyke! Dyke, goddamn you!”

“She’s out! She’s loud! She’s proud! Welcome to the club, sister! Now relax and let me introduce you to a brand new world…”

It felt gross. It felt odd. Kate tried to reframe it. It’s just lubrication. It’s just making it easier for later. It means nothing. It’s just a tongue. It’s just…

Andrea was good. Extremely so. She took pride in her oral skills and was using all her talents, all her tricks on Kate. Not because she wanted the little bitch to feel good: simply because she knew that pleasure would make her suffer as much as the pain to come. Every involuntary thrust of Kate’s hips, every muffled moan that escaped her lips was a step towards conquest… and Andrea felt like a warlord, like a terrible goddess exacting just revenge…

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she giggled. “But we can’t have you cumming like that… not when dear Daddy has been so, so patient!”

Fear crept from beneath the disgust Kate felt with herself. A part of her had enjoyed it, and she hated herself for it. Her body was starting to betray her, and that, more than anything, was terrifying. But now the pain would come. She knew that for a fact.

“Daddy, my sweet, sweet Daddy… break the cunt”, said Andrea.

“Please… don’t…” managed to mutter Kate.

It was in vain.

It did hurt. The man was a beast, savage, thrusting into Kate without the slightest care for her pleasure or comfort, using her body like an object to take out all his messed up frustrations, his fantasies, whatever was mixed up in the storm inside his brain. Kate whimpered and yelped and tried not to scream. And in her ear, a warm breath, whispering to her constantly.

“Good girl… won’t you cry for me? Like you made me cry so many times? You fucking slut… don’t fight it… you know what you are, deep down… don’t you miss my sweet tongue on your cunt? Relax… let it happen… you deserve this… and I’ve earned it… your pain… and what you will be for me later… when the pain is gone…”

Part of her mind was aware enough to realize Andrea was rubbing herself right beside her. But most of her mind was focused on the sensation between her legs, the burning, the feeling she was being torn apart… and something worse, slowly creeping its way into the strange mixture assaulting her consciousness. Andrea saw it immediately.

“It’s better now, isn’t it? You can feel it… it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. Not to me. We are sisters now, after all. I, made by the cock that is remaking you! It’s so… poetic, isn’t it? You are a slut. You’ve always been a slut, deep down… all you needed was someone to prove to you that a slut is all you need to be. All you deserve to be. No more queen bee at college for you! And I know you will be such a good little girl for Daddy…”

“Fuck… fuck you…”

“Oh, you’ll get to do that too! Want a taste?”

Andrea started slowly, kissing Kate’s neck, nibbling it, giving her victim goosebumps. Then she delicately removed her bra, and lips met sensitive skin. Kate’s nipples, hard against her will, were assaulted by kisses, suction, skillful licks. Andrea toyed with Kate, varying the pressure, the speed of her tongue, inserting playful little bites into the game. Measuring. Learning. Deciphering every preference, every weak point. To Kate’s horror, the pain was starting to feel duller, as if coming from far away. The pleasure, on the other hand, was sharper, demanding, a hungry thing coming from her own traitorous body. It was hard to think. Hard to keep any single idea in frame inside her mind. Too many stimuli, coming from too many places, attacking different parts of her idea of self. She felt as if she was drowning in sensation.

Andrea made her way down, slowly, as her father’s thrusts became a bit slower. Stamina wasn’t infinite, but she was quite confident that together they could get the job done. Together, they could do anything. It took a bit of careful positioning, but soon the tip of her tongue was able to tease the little cunt’s clit and even give her dear Daddy a little extra lick when he pulled his beautiful cock out, only to ram it into Kate again. Oh, if only this moment could last forever. Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment, in something that felt like a twisted perversion of love. It was time to move on to the next step.

Kate couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop her fucking body from reacting to the big cock inside her, the tongue playing her pussy like a violin, her own shame turned into a corruption of pleasure, disgust with herself that swirled and shifted and somehow enhanced the feelings that were eroding her sanity. And then, it snuck up on her.

Kate came, harder than ever in her life. Any pretense was undone at that moment. Her body was too honest. But the fucked up father and daughter team didn’t stop. No, they paused for only a second or two before resuming their work. It was too much. Kate shook as she came again. And again. And again.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Too confused to protest anything Andrea said. Her words just permeated, unfiltered, into Kate’s mind.

“...tell you? You can be such a good little whore… and we can be Daddy’s sluts together! Don’t you think he deserves it? His cock made you cum so much… your pain gave it so much pleasure… it owns you now. And you’ll love it, I know you will. We’ll make you love it so, so much, until you forget what a fucking bitch you were before…”

Kate didn’t even notice when the restraints were removed. There were stronger ones in place now, and she could feel them. Inside her head. She had been defeated. She had been conquered. She had surrendered.

“On all fours”, Daddy said. He didn’t have to say it twice. Kate complied. 

“Word on campus is that your little ass is the one hole you’ve been saving up for someone special! Well, I say you’ve met someone very special! So now Daddy will take the last bit of you and you’ll finally be entirely his! Isn’t that exciting? But… what about your poor fellow slut? I mean, I gave you pleasure too! I say I deserve a treat. So… you get pain for Daddy and he gets to watch you eat a pussy for the first time! What a show it will be! And we’ll make it a show, won’t we, sis?”

Yes. Whatever Andrea said. It was easier to comply. Easier to obey. Easier to just accept. It would hurt. Good. If her pain was what they wanted, they would have it. She would have sex with another girl. Good. If they wanted her to dyke out, she would. 

Kate’s screams sent vibrations through Andrea’s pussy, only making Kate’s inexperienced attempts at eating her out so much more delicious. Andrea felt like a queen, being serviced as she deserved. Mike was a beast, finally letting out something that had been suppressed in shame for far too long. Kate let her body take over, turning even pain into something else, something like purpose, or atonement. In a single day, all three had changed. Forever.

The tight, virgin ass, paired with the spectacle of this girl pleasuring his sweet little girl sent Mike over the edge. He barely managed to pull out before cumming with an intensity that shocked even himself. Kate’s back was soaked, and some drops had even landed on his own daughter’s breasts. 

Andrea licked her lips.

“Kate… sis… why don’t we clean each other up for Daddy?”

V - Epilogue

Mike woke up to the sensation of tongues on his cock, as was the norm. He let himself relax and sink into pleasure. To think that half a year ago, the idea of even looking at his daughter had felt revolting! How silly he had been. They loved each other. They made each other their best versions of themselves. Their most perverted versions. 

And Kate… how lovely it had all been. Sure, it had taken a little while for her to fully enter the family, but now she and her adoptive sister were inseparable. They went shopping for slutty outfits, they did their camshows together to make Daddy money… they had even made out in front of the Dean when they announced they were dropping out of college to be full-time whores. It was tender, in a way. Kate’s addiction to pain and humiliation had come as a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one- especially by Andrea, who had started to explore her sadistic side more and more.

Of course, they both adored Daddy. They were always ready, always willing to please him. After far too many years of gray, dull effort and solitude, Mike felt happy. He let himself enjoy that fact.

After he came, the girls licked each other clean, moaning as they savored their Daddy’s cum. With bright smiles, they leaped on the bed with Mike.

“Good morning, Daddy!” they said in unison.

Did you enjoy this story? You can get access to the full library and support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

Every bit helps!

[darcytaylor]

Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better. (Harper Bazaar Woman of the Year Awards)

For a while now, I’ve been saying here on my blog: speculation is not fact. We don’t - and never will - know the ins and outs of anyone’s private life, especially when it comes to someone like Nicola Coughlan. Yet so many people see her holding hands with someone and jump to conclusions, acting like they’re gospel truth. Can we please take a moment to think about why holding hands with a guy is somehow “evidence” of a relationship, but when she holds hands with female friends, no one bats an eye? (and no this is not where I want you to go into detail about all of your reasonings why she is dating someone, the point is WE DON'T KNOW - because we don't actually know her! And if someone says otherwise, they are lying!)

Even if Nicola is in a relationship, let’s remember that we don’t actually know anything about it, which is exactly how it should be. And for those hinting about pregnancy, even if they’re trying to be subtle with terms like “delicate position” - it’s beyond invasive, and it’s honestly FUCKED UP! People know exactly what you're suggesting, and Nicola called that behaviour out directly in her speech. If you’re focusing on her body rather than her work, you’re part of the problem. (You can read my pinned post where I go into more detail why speculating on pregnancy is fucked)

If Nicola doesn't like the way the media is portraying her, it's unlikely she would appreciate fans doing the same thing. Sometimes, people try to justify their actions by separating the media from fan behaviour, but the impact on her is the same. We need to remember that our assumptions, even if you think they are innocent, can be damaging.

What fans talk about often drives what the media focuses on, because they’re chasing clicks. If people weren’t feeding into it, the media wouldn’t have as much to go off.

What the fans talk about and what the media produces, go hand-in-hand, and ignoring that is a big part of the problem. Trying to justify it doesn’t change the fact that it can still affect Nicola - especially if she’s made it clear she’s uncomfortable and hates these narratives.

Nicola’s speech was a call out to reconsider how people engage with her personal life. I know I’ve been working on doing better, and I think everyone else in this fandom could stand to do the same. Instead of spinning theories about her relationships or appearance, maybe we could all step back, respect her boundaries, and celebrate her for what she wants to be recognized for: her achievements and her talent. Let's try not to make her whole personality about a guy.

Nicola took a stand on the insane focus on things like her relationship status, age, or dress size - topics that constantly overshadow her career and accomplishments. You can tell it's exhausting for her to be boxed into these labels, and she deserves better.

One of the best parts of her speech last night, for me, was when she praised her longtime inspiration, Victoria Beckham, who was right there in the audience. Nicola talked about how much Victoria meant to her growing up, especially for how she handled herself through nonstop scrutiny. Both women have had to deal with some of the same pressures -where fans and the media feel entitled to critique and dissect every aspect of their lives.

Nicola made it clear she’s tired of being defined by these things. People are more interested in latching onto rumours about her relationship status (even though we have zero confirmation of who she’s dating) or making guesses about her body, including potential pregnancy, all because of how she looks on any given day. This rush to define her identity based on whether she’s seen with someone or holding hands? It’s reductive and invasive.

Honestly, Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better.

To the bigger creators: you especially have to do better because I can see some of you fuelling everything that Nicola hates. (I actually don’t think it’s the people who ship Luke and Nicola because that is part of her job, that is part of Bridgerton and her work, it’s a testament to how good of a job both her and Luke did, Nicola understands that). But the people who are shipping her with people outside of her work? DO BETTER!

And yes, I am also putting myself in the category of doing better. I think it’s imperative to look at past behaviours and strive to do better and be better.

EDIT: THIS PICTURE IS GORGEOUS! The flowers, the lighting, the vibe. It's perfect!

[profoundbondfanfic]

Do you have any recs for Reallyyy long fics? Like 200-300k+ words? That isn't 91W... avoiding that one because I feel like it will hurt me... preferably fix-its? Oh and no a/b/o pls :) thanksss

Here are a few:

Angel's Wild by riseofthefallenone (Explicit, 389k words)

But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Bitch Better Have My Money by Duckyboos (Explicit, 256k words)

How Dean Winchester - mechanic, shitty cook, single father - became the power behind the throne in one of the biggest crime syndicates in the Midwest.

Computer Safety Verse by followthattardis (Explicit, 232k words)

On the day of his 29th birthday, Dean receives an email from his old nemesis: Michael Milton, the guy who got him kicked out of college and stole his girlfriend. The email contains encoded images with top secret CIA/NSA intelligence – and now their only copy is in Dean’s brain. Both agencies send their best operatives – Castiel Novak and Victor Henriksen respectively – to handle their accidental asset and protect the invaluable data in his head. To justify their sudden appearance in Dean’s life, they adopt covers: Victor as Dean’s new co-worker and neighbor, Cas as his new boyfriend. Needless to say, Dean’s brother and his girlfriend are thrilled to see him in a relationship they believe to be real. Clearly, there’s no way this could go wrong.

Four Letter Word For Intercourse by bendingsignpost (Explicit, 228k words)

As a grease monkey turned college freshman, Dean's constantly three seconds away from being stressed out of his mind. It hardly helps that he's finally figuring out his sexuality in his thirties. What might help with that stress is a little phone number (and a big credit card bill). If he can't figure out how to be bisexual in person, he can at least give it a go over the phone, right? (It's probably a bad idea, but he really can't help himself.)

Light me up by tricia_16 (Explicit, 218k words)

Five years after participating in a life-changing threesome with his then-girlfriend and her friend Cas, Dean's single, comfortably bisexual, and has everything he's ever wanted except for that special someone to share his life with. When tragedy strikes, he and Cas are reunited in an unexpected way, and a split-second decision entangles their lives in ways neither of them could have predicted…

Not Part of the Plan by Annie D (scaramouche) (Explicit, 337k words)

Castiel's spent most of his adult life keeping his head down and staying out of trouble. This is a deliberate choice on his part, because as a cousin of the King, he'd rather stay unimportant and forgotten. This changes abruptly when King Michael decides that he has a better use for Castiel: he is to be wed to a noble member of the neighboring Republic, as part of an agreement between their two nations. Castiel knows he has to obey, but that doesn't mean he won't rebel in what small ways he can. Unexpectedly, his actions end up having far-reaching consequences.

one million fires burning by dothraki_shieldmaiden (Explicit, 248k words)

Dean Winchester teaches three classes a day, tutors after school, and chairs the English Department for Lawrence High School. He does enough. Unfortunately, his boss doesn't feel the same and informs him that he has a new job: co-coaching the school's trivia team. His co-coach? None other than the school's golden boy, Castiel Milton. Who Dean can't stand, for various reasons, all of which are valid, thank you very much. And the fact that Dean can't stop talking about the stick up Cas's, sorry, Milton's ass? Completely irrelevant.

Redux by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 386k words)

Dean Winchester is dead. For decades, he, along with Castiel and Sam, has led a peaceful afterlife in heaven. He has everything he’s ever wanted: a home, his family and friends surrounding him, and a relationship with Cas—and he’s bored as hell. Until, one day, Chuck escapes heaven’s lock up and begins capturing souls to regain power. To stop him, Jack sends Dean, Cas, and Sam back to Earth. After so long away from hunting, will they be able to once again find their place in the family business?

Talk Some Sense To Me (Kenopsia) by ImYourHoneyBee (Explicit, 244k words)

Scrambling to his knees Castiel hugs back, burying his face in Dean’s neck, breath coming in fast little pants against his skin. Dean closes his eyes and just breathes him in, barely able to believe that this is real. At any other time in his life, closing his eyes against a threat like Death would be an inexcusable lapse in his hunter’s judgement. Right now, he doesn’t give a single fuck. Death can reap him for all he cares, he’ll die knowing Cas is going to be ok. Alive. “I will see you soon, Dean,” Death tells him, that deliberate voice of his soft enough not to intrude on the intimacy of the moment, “Raincheck on that grilled cheese.” “Thank you,” Dean croaks, propping his chin up on Cas’s shoulder, unmindful of the tears trickling down his cheeks, “Thank you.”

The Closest Thing We Have To Magic by EllenOfOz, TrenchcoatBaby (Explicit, 221k words)

Dean Winchester is a graduate student at Stanford University’s School of the Occult. A naturally-talented mage but a lazy professor and student, he figures he’ll coast through his final year the way he always has: with charisma, charm, and a natural aptitude for magic. All that changes when his thesis advisor, Dr. Castiel Novak, turns out to be the strictest and most challenging educator on-campus. Unfortunately for Dean, the uptight professor is nearly his age and infuriatingly gorgeous. But Castiel is keeping a secret, a powerful talent that’s more a curse than a blessing when he’s targeted by seditious parts of magical society. Can Dean and Cas put aside their animosity—and undeniable chemistry—long enough to instill real change in the magical community? Or will sinister plots and hidden agendas keep them apart?

To Build a Home by intothesilentland (Mature, 383k words)

Twenty-three years of head-over-heels, devastating devotion and love, love, love for the man with bright eyes and dark hair. Fourteen years of friends, best friends, of always together. One moment of rejection. Nine years of apart. Nine years of heartbreak, nine years of continents away, of not speaking, of no acknowledgement, no interaction, no closure, no peace. No happiness. Nine years of Dean’s life entering motions, going through them, constant, cold and mechanic, like clockwork. Nine years of alone. God. Nine years. A lot has changed. And yet Dean still loves Cas just the same. Even if his heart hurts all kinds of different.

Under The Midnight Sun by NorthernSparrow (Explicit, 232k words)

Dean Winchester’s been camp manager of a science research station on the Alaskan tundra for thirteen years. Dean likes his job; fixing the camp trucks, troubleshooting the generators, keeping clueless undergrads and NSF bigwigs from walking into grizzly bears or getting lost in snowstorms — it’s all in a day’s work. It keeps him pretty busy, and this year his brother Sam's visiting too, so he's even busier. So it’s really not any of Dean’s business when some weirdo antisocial ornithologist sets up a tent a few miles away, a dark-haired blue-eyed guy who’s doing a “very long-term" study on birds or wings or something, and who never, ever takes off his big lumpy backpack. But then the new guy starts dropping by camp for coffee and… well, he’s not officially part of camp; he's not Dean’s responsibility; he’s really not Dean’s problem at all, but when a strange blizzard comes sweeping in, Dean gets worried and goes to check. Thing is, Dean's spent years in the sweeping vistas of the Arctic. He knows all about the midnight sun and the northern lights, the ice caves and avalanches, the rough-and-ready Haul Road truckers and the even rougher-and-readier wild animals. But even so, what he finds is much more than he bargained for.

With Interest by everandanon (Explicit, 296k words)

Eighteen, bored, and not quite able to turn down the money, Cas agrees to an ill-advised bet, and Dean's heart isn't the only one that gets broken. Eleven years later, grieving his twin brother and struggling to take care of his niece, Cas finally returns home — only to meet Dean again and discover that the boy he left behind has grown up a lot. And now, Dean seems to have every intention of getting him back — with interest.

You can also check our >100k tag for all the longer fics we rec.

[whathorselegs]

On the one hand I am very curious to know what Fyodor's actual motivation behind all his actions is. On the other hand, if Crime and Punishment is anything to go by, it's simply cause he feels entitled to it.

Like I'm sure there are deeper justifications for why he's doing all this. If we take him at his word, he wants to rid the world of sin and believes skill users to be part of that sin. Just like Raskolnikov justified killing the old lady because she was taking advantage of people who were destitute (like Raskolnikov) by being a pawn broker, in Crime and Punishment.

Or so he says.

He spends almost the entire book justifying his actions by saying he literally has the right to kill because he's a superior mind. Something Fyodor believes about himself, in terms of intellect Fyodor believes he has the lion's share and everyone else is dim and predictable.

Raskolnikov publishes a paper about superior men and their right to change history by making sacrifices. It doesn't matter that they leave masses of bodies in their wake because those bodies were of unimportant dumb common people. People meant to die so that the superior man can see his plans through and makes changes that will ultimately benefit humankind, even if they are reviled for it.

Raskolnikov also believes himself to be one of these people at the start of the book. By his logic him killing the old lady, who brought misery to others with her loan sharking, was ok because eventually Raskolnikov will go on to do great things.

However, over the course of the book, this belief is shaken, proven false and he is left with the guilt of doing something completely terrible. He is not a superior mind and in fact he has to confront the reality he killed that woman because he wanted to see if he could. Then it ends with him facing consequences, repenting and symbolically being reborn as a new man after his prison sentence is served.

My hope is, it turns out the same with Fyodor. He's spent years convincing himself he simply has the right to cause so much pain because he's above everyone else. I want that logic unravelled before his eyes and the realization he's not special, he did it all for nothing, he hurt leagues of people all for nothing. I want it to drive him to the same insanity Raskolnikov experienced and I want him to admit he was wrong.

Idk what consequences he will face, but I hope it's not simply death. He deserves to face more than just death, I want him to live with what he's done, I want to see him imprisoned by his own guilt.

And just like Raskolnikov I do also want the hope that maybe somehow, he can start over.

Death is almost never a consequence in BSD, it's a tragedy. It doesn't end events, it rather changes them and unfolds new ones. For me death doesn't seem like the right way to end Fyodor's defeat.

[dollgxtz]

Why’d you write Sylus so crazy? You’re turning him into one of those booktok men and he’s anything BUT that. I just don’t get it :/

Hi anon! I know my yandere!Sylus story is disturbing. And while yes, I do take great pleasure in writing such topics such as kidnapping n such, I genuinely just wanted to write a dark Sylus fic exploring a different version of him where his desires and upbringing lead him to hurt even the people he loves. I love tragic characters and stories!

Think about if you watch a horror movie. You know murdering and killing is bad and yet you still watch it for entertainment, to see what happens!

By the way, this isn’t to argue or call you out anon, just hoping to shed some light on my perspective as the author. I love when people ask about my work, and I’m happy to answer regardless of the context! My ask box is always open if any of you have questions!

Below is a breakdown of some of the complexities I wanted to portray!

Yandere!Sylus Breakdown

I envisioned him as a deeply complex character—not necessarily in his emotions, because yandere!Sylus always knows exactly what he wants—but in the way he rationalizes his actions and interprets his “wrongdoings.”

On the surface, his actions are undeniably wrong. Kidnapping a girl, forcing her into a life of isolation, and desiring to have children with her while keeping her away from everyone she’s ever loved is, by all moral standards, reprehensible. However, Yandere!Sylus doesn’t see it that way. To him, these actions are justifiable as long as they fulfill a purpose in his grand design.

He operates with a calculated mindset, never doing anything unless he believes it will ultimately benefit him, even if it means causing immense suffering. The fact that the reader might hate him only reinforces his resolve; he views it as a challenge, something to be overcome or “fixed” rather than a deterrent.

This doesn’t mean he doesn’t love reader, he does. But he is inherently selfish at his core since that was what was needed to survive. I intend to break this down further!

In yandere!Sylus’s twisted logic, he genuinely believes that if he can get the reader pregnant, she will inevitably develop a bond with the child. He sees this as a means to an end—a way to “tame” her, to anchor her to him emotionally.

He is convinced that motherhood will soften her resistance, leading her to accept the life he has meticulously crafted for them. To him, this is not just a strategy but a deeply held belief that love, however twisted, can be cultivated through shared ties, like the birth of a child.

This version of Sylus is driven by a yearning for the idealized version of happiness that society often romanticizes—the “big happy family” with “children running around” and a “loving wife.” It’s a vision that he clings to desperately, not because he understands it in the way most people do, but because he was denied such love and stability as a child.

Sylus grew up in a world where love was scarce and survival was paramount, as depicted in the original story. This lack of nurturing has warped his understanding of love and family, leading him to believe that these things can be engineered or forced into existence.

In blending elements of the original story into this version of Sylus and the reader, I wanted to show the core aspects of his character while exploring new dimensions of his psyche. However, I didn’t want it to be an exact replication, as the reader in this version isn’t the canonical main character from the original universe. Instead, she represents an alternative narrative where Sylus’s obsessions and desires manifest differently, yet still retain the disturbing intensity that defines his character! ^o^

All in all, if this story isn’t for you. Don’t read it please. I write for a certain demographic of people who enjoy twisted media. It’s fiction after all! No one is truly getting hurt. I hope this helps with your confusion anon!

[eemamminy-art]

You have turned me from a Zenos hater into a Zenos ambilaventer keep posting and you might manage to turn me into a Zenos lover

If you already hated him though is me drawing him really going to make that big of a difference? 😩 Like I know I give him a fat ass and extremely delicious nose in my artwork but now I feel compelled to give you my tedtalk on why I like zenos lmao

This is about to be really long and also contains spoilers for stormblood, shadowbringers, and endwalker

This might surprise you but I like Zenos for his characterization and storyline in the game itself! The fanart is just kind of a bonus. He's one of many examples in Stormblood of a character that is shaped by their experiences, though I think it's not told as successfully as it is for like, Fordola, Arenvald, or Yotsuyu, because a key part of his backstory was locked to a short story in a print-only book (which I think is out of print now). The most you see of it in the actual game is this blink and you miss it line from Lyse at the very end of 4.0:

(Dialog from the quest "Stormblood", patch 4.0)

What really, really appeals to me about Zenos though, is that he is the personification of depression and that really resonates with me. He has anything he could possibly want, he has accomplished a great many things, but he feels completely hollow inside. He's miserable. He slaughtered countless Domans including their leader and felt nothing, commanded to do it by his father because (as shown in that short story) he only ever was acknowledged to even exist to his father when he practiced violence. So it's a given now, that's what's expected of him and that's all his life is. He's completely desensitized.

He finds one thing that makes him feel alive, that is the warrior of light challenging him, and it becomes his sole focus. Nothing else matters but chasing that high, because every single other thing is a low. After being bested by the warrior of light for the very last time, faced with probably prison for his crimes, he decides to die by his own hand on that high note rather than go back to the drudgery and misery that is everything else.

It's why in endwalker he can be swayed to do something good at the very, very end. He doesn't have a moral compass because he was shaped into an attack dog by his father, he sees "righteousness" as an excuse for war. Because I mean, what else is Garlean propaganda but righteousness from their twisted perspective? He asks Jullus if he would be happier had he a good reason to kill so many garleans after killing his own father— he makes it plain that death is death and there is no justice or good or evil in his eyes. He did have a reason, and it was that his father's use of black rose would likely kill the warrior of light, the only person or thing that gave Zenos any joy in life. Later, it was that Fandaniel dangled the idea that the warrior of light would be attracted to the slaughter and would come running to stop him so he killed more people during the civil war after the emperor's death. But he doesn't need to say that that was why. The reason doesn't matter, he knows the action would not change no matter how it was justified. Even if it was a "good" reason, death is death.

(Dialog from the quest "The Time Between the Seconds", patch 4.0)

(Dialog from the quest "As the Heavens Burn", patch 6.0)

I often see people take Alisaie's part in that scene as her convincing him to be a better person but that's really not what happens. He knows if he takes that action that others perceive as good and helps to stop Endsinger, he could have that high again in facing the warrior of light one more time. He could find joy and meaning, even for a fleeting moment. Then once again end it all because he fears returning to the low monotony of life. It's all over his dialog, especially in Endwalker. The dialog at the very end where he asks the warrior of light if they feel fulfilled, I know is meant to be a bit more of a meta question toward the player themselves, but I'd like to think it's Zenos comparing how different his outlook is to the warrior of light's. The warrior of light has many things keeping them going, whereas Zenos is drowning in despair with only one bright spot that he is constantly chasing time and time again.

(Dialog from the quest "Friends Gathered", patch 6.0)

those three tiny lines can hold so much zenoswol yearning in them AAAAAAAAAAAAA I AM not well

I personally still feel like there was room for him to survive that and to be gently guided into more and more good and try to undo some of that conditioning but I think he might be too polarizing of a character for him to become a permanent ally in canon. Much as I would love to see that! I have to wonder if the mentions of him in the 6.X patches that bounced between positive and negative were testing the waters, but I will leave my tinfoil hat aside because this post is already WAY too long lmao

I understand why people dislike him: they think he enjoys murder because he does it without "a good reason", they don't like how obsessive he becomes toward the warrior of light who is an extension of the player themselves, they don't like that in Fandaniel's scheme in "in from the cold" Zenos is the one inhabiting the warrior of light's body. Totally get it, totally understand.

I'm just saying I see the complexity to him and I find it compelling. Just as I found the overwhelming grief and despair that motivated Nidhogg or Emet-selch or Elidibus to be compelling. I think what people miss though when you like an antagonist is that feeling empathy toward them means you don't feel empathy toward the people they harmed, or that you somehow agree with what they did. But really, I just love seeing these characters that are faced with such tragedy or misery that they start to lose sight of right and wrong. They're driven entirely by emotions. For a story where emotions are literally power, I think it's a really interesting angle to take with the antagonists of that story.

Man, where was I going with this? 😂 I just love Zenos... I don't think I will be convincing anyone to like him who doesn't already, and that's not at all my intent. I just thought I'd share my perspective a little bit after getting this ask!

[wanderingelvis]

i was wondering (and totally lmk if i’m like spamming you i totally don’t mean to) if you could write a fic where elvis meets an innocent reader on the set of a movie.(the reader is an extra) and elvis begins to notice the readers little space habits and suspects it. one day, after overhearing some of the other male cast members make rude remarks about the reader and elvis decides it’s time to take the reader home where he can protect them. elvis calls the reader over to his trailer and starts to make the reader drop, so that he can take the reader home and be their daddy.

i loved this request sm that it’s gonna be a two-parter!! so here’s part 1! ✨

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

Word count: 3,101

Pairings: 70s CG!Elvis and Little F!Reader

Warnings: little space lifestyle, manipulation

It was your first proper job. The one that you were proud of, that your parents would tell their friends about and it was a lot of pressure.

You were the newest person to Elvis’ little performing circle and Elvis always made a point to get to know his band and performers - how else could he put on a successful performance if not everyone was on the same page and trusting each other?

After spending time alone with you and in a group setting, Elvis had his suspicions about you. You had all the qualities of someone with a little personality - docile, submissive, wide-eyed, easily overwhelmed and eager to please. Now, Elvis knew that this meant that you could just be sweet and innocent, adjusting to the chaos of his world, but Elvis figured that even if you were just that, the little lifestyle would certainly help you cope in dealing with all of it.

The first time Elvis really suspected anything was during a break in recording, when a stuffed animal fell out of your locker in front of everyone. You furiously tried to stuff it back in, hoping that no-one had seen, but you'd caught Elvis', Jerry and Sonny's eyes as well as a few others. Your cheeks heated a violent shade a pink, as you tried to sort yourself out, getting increasingly flustered and overwhelmed. As Elvis observed you from afar, he knew you couldn't look after yourself properly, someone was going to have to do it for you.

From then on, Elvis had quietly instructed Jerry to have someone watch over you, making sure you were okay and reporting back to Elvis.

Elvis had been told by Charlie that he’d spotted you in the park by the studios colouring pretty pictures under a tree, whilst Red had informed Elvis that you stopped past every stray cat in the lot, crouching down to speak to it, feed it if you could and stroke it.

Elvis knew you were a little angel sent straight from heaven and he knew he had to have you. Elvis devised a somewhat sinister little ploy to get him in your good graces, for you to see him in a caregiver light from your first proper encounter.

The fame and power that came with Elvis meant that all he needed to do was slip the security a $100 dollar bill and in exchange, he and his small entourage were given the keys to every locker. He only really trusted Jerry with this operation as he made Jerry break into your locker and retrieve your teddy bear from your locker and bring it to Elvis. Now, Elvis knew that his actions were going to cause you distress, but he figured that in the grand scheme of things, you’d be better off for it - that’s how Elvis liked to justify many of his less-than-moral escapades.

“Thanks, Jer.” Elvis said, grabbing the plush, brown teddy bear with a pink bow tie from Jerry who remained slightly confused at Elvis’ intentions.

“Now what, EP?” Jerry asked, curiously.

“Now, I’ll give it back to her when the timing is just right.” Elvis said, leaving Jerry just as bewildered. Jerry figured it was better to just let Elvis do whatever it was that he needed to do rather than question it. There was a method to his madness, Jerry tried to tell himself.

When you realised that your beloved and treasured teddy bear, Binky, was missing, it felt like your whole world had fallen apart - or at least the secure feeling of it that your teddy bear gave you.

You tried real hard not to let the sheer panic and distress seem obvious as you stood at your open locker, quietly hyperventilating that your most trusted teddy was gone. She was a reminder of home, that helped steady you when things where getting all a bit much for little, sweet you.

You began to pace the locker room, thinking maybe she’d fallen out of your bag somewhere and been misplaced but the panic inside of your tummy was growing as your started to realise she was nowhere to be seen.

You see, Elvis was watching you from a tall window above the entry locker room, from the top of a stairwell as your distress confirmed to him that you were indeed a little, even if you didn’t know it yet.

You tried to keep your composure as you went into rehearsals with Elvis and the rest of the crew. It was safe to say you were feeling very wobbly and nervous, your lost teddy bear playing persistently on your mind. You were worried you’d dropped her in a puddle or left her on the bus on the way to the studio, what if she was scared? You could’ve sworn that you’d put Binky in your locker along with your bag, but you knew your memory wasn’t the best and now you were just so confused, right before you had to go and record.

Sheepishly, you wandered into the studio where a couple of people were already set up and chatting. You walked over to your stool and microphone, sitting down and patiently and quietly waiting for Elvis and everyone else to appear.

You were trying to remain calm, you knew you needed to be a big girl right now, not crying over some silly bear, you just couldn’t help the anxious feeling that was creeping its way into your body.

When Elvis appeared he went around the small room greeting everyone, making sure they all felt comfortable and good - and that’s when he landed on you.

“Ready to record, Y/N?” Elvis asked in a surprisingly softer tone, a little more hushed than usual.

You offered a small smile and nod, your quiet demeanour making Elvis raise his eyebrow at you, even if he knew why you were quiet.

“Everythin’ alright honey?” Elvis asked gently.

“Just tired.” You mumbled albeit remaining very polite. Elvis nodded and continued on.

The recording was going well until your microphone fell from its stand as you tried to adjust it, causing a loud bang in the isolated room. You apologised skittishly, and you thought everything was going okay until you screwed up your lines, your brain just going fuzzy.

Feeling a little worked up, you apologised again, especially to Elvis, who just sent you a nod of acknowledgment before continuing.

When the horrendous session was finally through, you quietly began to gather your bearings and sort your equipment when you realised someone much taller had approached you.

“Y/N? Elvis would like to see you right away in his trailer.” A man, who you believed to be called Jerry, told you. You gulped, realising you were likely in for a big telling off after ruining several takes with your clumsy and distracted self.

You followed Jerry compliantly, you wouldn’t ever disobey any command, you didn’t trust yourself to know better and you wouldn’t dare go against anyone. Jerry led you to Elvis trailer, doing an odd pattern of knocking, probably so that Elvis knew it was him. Jerry nodded at you and opened the door, before walking off to tend some other business.

You tentatively wandered into the trailer that you’d never been in before. You liked it a lot, velvet reds, an oddly comforting scent of cigar smoke, designs for performance outfits pinned on a wall and even a few pistols laid out on a counter.

“Y/N?” Elvis said cooly, snapping you out of your observations, you noticed you’d begun nibbling your finger whilst looking around - a childish habit that for some reason, you couldn’t get out of.

You just smiled sweetly, unsure what Elvis wanted but fearing you’d let him down during the recordings.

“Do you know why I called you here Y/N?” Elvis asked gently, relaxing on the couch as you stayed fixed in your spot, not daring to move unless told to.

The size difference between you was immense, you felt utterly dwarfed by his presence. He wasn’t even the tallest guy on the lot, despite being very tall, yet he seemed to tower over just about everyone.

You panicked a little at the question, fiddling with you fingers. “M’in trouble for messing up the recording?” You asked meekly, shy to even admit it.

“Not in trouble sweetheart,” Elvis assured gently. The pet name made your tummy do a little somersault - a sensation that was foreign to you but one that you quite liked. “Everyone’s got bad days, you didn’t seem yourself in there,” Elvis said observantly.

You were feeling wobbly. Now, you weren’t actually accustomed to the little space lifestyle so you didn’t really understand the feelings you often experienced, you couldn’t really articulate them in any way to yourself, let alone to somebody else. But you knew when you felt a little different, you felt, as you put it, wobbly. It was that feeling of anxiety, mixed with neediness and vulnerability.

You weren’t exactly sure what triggered feeling wobbly either. You knew that it could happen when you woke up in the morning, if something out of the ordinary happened in your routine, if you were scared or even if you were happy.

You blinked a little, worried about a potential onset of tears if you admitted to Elvis you’d lost Binky.

“I, um, I lost somethin’ just before the session, and, and,” You frowned a little, getting frustrated at yourself at tripping over your words. “I guess, it was just on my mind lots. M’sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise.” You said earnestly, your nerves and flustered state seeming obvious to Elvis, who patted the spot on the couch next to him.

“C’mere.” Elvis cooed and you complied without a second thought, making your way over and sitting down next to the big man. “Whatcha missin’ darlin’?” Elvis asked, despite knowing.

“My bea-“ You stopped yourself, feeling all hot and bothered at mentioning that you were so devoted to a soft toy, thinking how silly you’d look in front of Elvis. “No, it’s silly.” You mumbled.

“If it’s causin’ you this much upset little one, it ain’t silly.” Elvis soothed, the pet name doing a number on you again, giving you those strange wobbly feelings.

You’d always found Elvis attractive, even before you started working with him. However, there were little things that you really liked about him, such as when you were standing in line next to him in the canteen area, he’d always help serve your plate up, always insisting on more green vegetables to keep you healthy.

It was like he was a dominant albeit gentle and encouraging presence and you really were drawn to him, even if it was unprofessional.

“I have a teddy bear and I lost her and she’s really special to me and I don’t know where I put her a-and I thought, I thought,” You we’re starting to get worked up and panicky all over again, this time in front of someone so famous and powerful that it was making the situation worse. “I put her someplace safe but when I looked she was gone and she helps me and I don’t know what to,” You whimpered, your voice cracking as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You dared not look at Elvis, only imagining his face when he realised how weird you were. Yet all you felt was a large hand on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles which helped.

“Oh little one, I’m sorry.” Elvis cooed as you hiccuped adorably by his side, your feet not quite reaching the floor in comparison to his which were outstretched. “What does she look like hm?”

“Um, um, she, she’s got um, brown fur and she’s got a pink bow tie and it’s um, it’s real pretty,” You stammered, feeling so wobbly and small as tears began to trickle down your puffy cheeks.

“A pink bow tie?” Elvis asked with you nodding and sniffling in response. “Well, I did happen to notice a teddy bear out in the entrance to the lot earlier, a teddy bear with a pink bow tie in fact.” Elvis said and for the first time since you entered his room, you looked straight up at him.

“Really?” You sniffled, your eyes wide as you wiped them with your sleeve.

“Want to come with me and we can take a look and see if she’s yours?” Elvis said gently. You nodded yet again, feeling just a bit too wobbly to keep using words. “Okay sweet girl, let’s go.”

Elvis helped you up a little, taking your small hand in his large one as you went to another room. You realised that lots of trailers were interconnected from the inside and Elvis had so much space.

You were surprised at how sweet and kind Elvis was being. You’d expected him to find you odd, but he was being gentle and soft with you, as if he knew you were feeling a little unsure of yourself and in a wobbly state of mind.

When you turned a corner, you entered a room where lots of other men, who you realised later were Elvis’ Memphis Mafia, were all lounging on the couches, laughing and drinking. At the sudden surprise at the large crowd of loud men, you tried to hide behind Elvis a little, shuffling your body behind his whilst holding his hand a little extra tightly, which he couldn’t help but smirk at.

“Outta here, fellas.” It was just three words but they all quickly obliged Elvis’ request, leaving within a minute of the command. It made you realise the power and control Elvis held. “Sorry about them, honey.” Elvis said, offering you a smile.

He led you a draw, opening it and pulling out Binky, with you tearing up all over again at the mere sight of her.

“That’s her, that’s Binky.” You said, wiping your eyes again as you hiccuped. Relief washed over your small body as you wrapped your arms around Elvis, as far as they would go. “Thank you, thank you, you saved her!” You cried sweetly.

“Oh darlin’, look atchu, look at the state you’re in, all worked up, hm?” Elvis cooed, grabbing some tissues from a box on the table and kneeling down to gently dab it under your eyes and nose. You felt a little embarrassed at the way you were, but you couldn’t help it if you tried, you were just an overwhelmed little thing.

“M’sorry, I was just real worried and she, she’s real special t’me.” You said softly.

“I know she is, I know baby. Binky’s a pretty name, you give her that name sweet girl?” Elvis asked you, trying to make you feel better.

Elvis was secretly thrilled at how everything had turned out, you were even more vulnerable than he’d initially anticipated. He could tell that you were feeling little, you just didn’t know how to articulate it, just like a little one.

He wanted to protect you and take care of you so badly, here you were, right in front of him, a sweet, beautiful, docile, gentle, naive little thing and he just had to have you.

“Uh huh.” You said sweetly, “I had her all my life and she just makes me happy and helps me when I’m feelin’…” You trailed off a little, unsure of how to describe how you felt to Elvis.

“A bit confused hm?” Elvis said, finishing your sentence for you. You nodded, grateful that Elvis was able to think for you. “I bet she’s been helping you with your new job here?” Elvis asked.

“Jus’ get scary sometimes.” You admitted, almost whispering as Elvis continued to kneel in front of you.

Both you and Elvis realised you were feeling extremely ‘wobbly’ as you’d put it, as you started chewing on your fingertips anxiously.

“I know it can baby, you’re doin’ a real good job of it baby.” Elvis hushed.

“Really?”

“Really. How’s about I make you a lil’ promise honey?” Elvis suggested, gently taking your fingers from your mouth and holding them in his own hands. “How’s about, whenever you feel scared, or even a lil’ bit nervous or confused, you come knock on that door and you come find me? You can do whatever you like, you and Binky, you can even have a nap if you need to. How does that sound, little one?” Elvis said, pushing stray hairs behind your ear tenderly, making shivers go down your spine.

You nodded again, liking the idea very much. You had some friends in this place but you often found it all very overwhelming and stressful. Elvis had been nothing but a calm, authoritative presence and you craved more and more of him.

“Good girl.” Elvis praised.

And that’s how the next couple of months ensued. Elvis delighted in you seeking him out for comfort. At first, it was only a couple of times a week but eventually, you’d be in his dressing rooms practically every day.

Elvis had made it a safe haven for you, he’d even given you your own draw, where you’d keep Binky, knowing she was much better off there than in your locker. It also held a colouring book with lots of different paints and colouring pencils for you, which you enjoyed doing quietly between each rehearsal. Elvis has even put some of your favourite snacks in there for if you were ever feeling peckish.

It had everything and Elvis gave you everything. You felt so looked after and cared for that it was becoming difficult to not become totally dependent on Elvis. It was at the point where Elvis, or one of his men, would now pick you up from your little apartment and drop you back, even if that meant you staying far later than your finished time. But you didn’t mind, you loved the tranquil and safe space Elvis had made for you. You loved doing your pretty colours for Elvis whilst he worked on other projects throughout the day, as you eagerly awaited his return so that you could run up to him and show him all your pretty pictures.

Elvis was surprised at how quickly you seemed to slip into the routine he’d provided for you. You were everything he wanted and more - beautiful, gentle, kind, naive and little.

The only thing left to do was to officially introduce you to the little lifestyle, and Elvis couldn’t wait.

taglist: @eliseinmemphis @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @wwebaby657 @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @gothicphantom @fallinlovewithurlove @astralheart21 @elvisbf @slimerspengler @octobers-snow @meetmeatyourworst @reddie-freddie @kxnnxy @lana-4life

[spookyfluffy]

It's my delusion and my need for a villain speaking but does anyone feel like Jaiden is setting up for her past in the federation to be a more antagonistic role?

Not seeming to agree that she was an experiment like q!Baghera and aologising in advance if she ever did anything bad to her

Cucurucho saying "Years ago, you helped us. Me." implying that q!Jaiden knew how to fix imperfection rather than be an experiment herself

The thing with caging birds and setting herself up on a higher ledge than it and calling it "symbolism" (even if it was /lh)

Her wings being pristine while others are clipped or plucked

cc!Jaiden saying that her character is morally grey and doesn't need to be defended

Something about q!Jaiden constantly justifying Cucurucho's actions despite knowing fully well how awful he can be... it almost feels like a case of "If he is not worthy of redemption, then neither am I"

[luminary-vazre]

On SOTE's lore

While my personal interpretation of SOTE's lore might not matter to people I still want to have it written down for posterity's sake (and so I can link to this rather than try to explain it every time I bring it up.) Marika Shadow of the Erdtree goes into Marika's backstory quite heavily- and it explains her actions. I've seen others saying it's trying to justify it, but I fully believe it's not. It's explaining without condoning. We can understand WHY Marika acted the way she did, even if we still fully believe what she did was wrong.

Marika escapes the hell the Hornsent put her and her people through, and through some twisted act of fate (Perhaps organized by Metyr, since we know the greater will doesn't interact directly with the lands between often if at all) ascends to divinity through the Divine Gate.

She then returns home, only to find her people gone. Extinct, save for her- and she's not exactly a person, anymore.

The crosses of Miquella show us the route Miquella took to godhood. It's explicitly described as agonizing to make those crosses, to tear parts of himself away- to remove what made him human(ish, I'm not exactly sure how different an Empyrean is from a human.) and... Marika took this same route to ascension. She had to do this same thing. To tear her body apart, to remove her love, her doubt, her fear- everything that would have kept her in check once she became a god. Everything that could have held back her ambitions. And, like Miquella discarding St Trina, she must have tossed away Radagon.

It is little wonder that once she became a divinity, retribution was not far behind her. There was nothing but ambition, and the memory of the hornsent's cruelty, left of her by then.

The Minor Erdtree miracle found in Marika's home describes it as her first miracle. If we got Crosses of Marika like we got crosses of Miquella, I'm positive this would be the spot that says 'here I leave my love.'

Marika wanted to save everyone from the hornsent- her people couldn't be saved, they were already gone. But she could create a new order, one without the barbarity of the Hornsent's actions. Without the horrible butchery and the jar gaols.

But... in the end, you have to protect your order. And without her kindness, her doubt, her love, her compassion.. all things she left behind on her path to godhood, Marika became a cold, calculating, absolutely and totally dedicated ruler. She would accept no threat to her order's existence, and in doing so, she became the very monster she set out to prevent from happening again.

Again, we now understand, but not condone, her actions against Mohg and Morgott. The Omen were holy to the hornsent, chosen by their gods. Marika, having survived the Hornsent's cruelty, only to see the signs of their gods in her children- it's not hate that drove her to hide the twins away, it was fear. Fear that they were chosen by the hornsent's cruel gods. It does not in any way make what she did to them OK or right, but it explains why she did it.

Marika paved the road to hell in her good intentions- and then, once she was done, and the crusade began, she set about tearing the paving up so no one could follow her. She had Belarut burned, she shrouded Enir-Ilim and the divine gate in shadow, and grew the sealing tree, which could only be burned by Messmer (or his killer.)

She knew the truth of the divine gate- that it was built from the bones and flesh of her people, that it was an artifact born of unfathomable cruelty and malice. Whatever power it gave, whatever god you would become using it, it wasn't worth it. I believe Marika looked back and saw the monster she'd become, and wanted to be sure no one could make that mistake.

Miquella.

Miquella was not evil. At least, not at first. Born cursed, Miquella grew up in the world of the golden order. Seeing its cruelty firsthand, seeing what it did to the alburnaics, to the omen, to anything that wouldn't fit into the order. And, so, he wanted to find a way to uproot it and begin again. And he found it- the lands of shadow, and the divine gate. We don't know how he came to learn of the divine gate, but learn of it he did- and not having the benefit of Marika's hindsight, and her knowledge of what would become of a god made with it, he set about walking the path of apotheosis.

The road to hell, being paved once again, in the good intentions of someone who only wanted to help. Miquella's actions seem cruel and callous because he had already begun casting away everything that made him who he was in preparation to become a god. Mohg, Radahn, Malenia- all became means to an end. Everything was a worthwhile sacrifice for a world with no suffering! He just had to become a god.

All he had to do. Was cross that gate. By any means necessary. Anyone, and anything, that was an obstacle to that goal was standing in the way of a perfect world. And, therefore, must be evil. Something he could defeat, and throw away, knowing his actions were justified. The ends HAD to justify the means. They had to.

[scoobydoodean]

ok lol officially most annoying anon in the world (“mischaracterization” anon who just said they were abdicating from the convo 4 being high as balls which. is real and i should stop cuz atp im p sure the whole point of what ur getting at is going over my head lmfao) BUT in terms of what u said u were getting at in ur poll (like if the writers were cognizant of it or if it’s more a display of their own internal biases? again im stupid and high sorry if im once again missing the point by a mile)… BUT

I don’t have any strong inclinations either way but if I had to choose I’d have to say it’s more their own internal/personal bias’s coming out rather than something they were expecting the audience to pick up on and maybe think about. And the only reason I say this is because the identities/status of the people she killed were never really explicitly stated (at least from what i can immediately recall of the episodes) or brought up again.

like it’s notttt rlly brought up throughout the episode aside from just learning that those people are dead and she killed them? like idk nothing about it rlly inclines me to believe it was anything more than subconscious or latent beliefs in the writers because I do think we were supposed to empathize with her so it does make sense in that sort of lens that the writers chose “criminals” or whatever to kinda “soften the blow”, if u will, of her having killed people?

idk. i wanna know what what u think tho!!! like in terms of the poll u posted what would ur answer be?

I have mixed feelings about it, because I think the previous associations the writers have made with Sam and class (as well as Dean and class—for example—in 2.20 "What Is And What Should Never Be") make it very possible it's intentional. Sam justifies Amy's actions partly based on class, and Dean condemns her actions partly for the same reason—that she doesn't get to kill people and get away with it just because they're beneath her on the social ladder. It seems so obvious that one wants to assume it's very intentionally and purposefully done.

At the same time, you are right that the presentation of the story—told through the mouth of a cop and a few newspaper clippings—is heavily biased against the victims. The cop says the third victim deserved it because he had been in and out of jail for petty offenses, and Sam calls him a "low life". You have to work very hard to capture the story of the second victim in the newspaper article. You really can't capture the story on those pages without really sitting down to read, paused on the correct frames. A prominent part of the article is focusing on the victim being a heroin addict who had relapsed and was high when he went to the park. He was vulnerable and "in the wrong place at the wrong time". What gets me the most though is the prominent headline for the first victim: "Body found in park, victim known to police". What a gross way to poison the well. The barely visible subheading reads: "Man had been arrested multiple times, had outstanding warrant". (Again—these multiple arrests indicate petty offenses rather than felonies—probably another addict). When Amy makes an attempt on another victim in the park (only to be stopped by Sam), the target is drunk and fumbling with his keys, trying to get into his locked car. So in every case, the presentation not just from Amy and Sam and the cop but the episode as a whole attempts to bias the audience against the victims, trying to paint them as people who shouldn't be missed, who deserved what they got, and/or whose vulnerability was to blame for what happened to them.

Amy seems to target people who are high or drunk in the park at night because they're vulnerable and alone. I think some fans jump to frame her choice of targets as vigilantism that helps assuage her guilt, but none of those people deserved to die—and it really isn't vigilantism—she's simply following her own mother's shrewd M.O.—you target people who are alone and whose situational awareness is impeded by substances and whose deaths the cops won't put much effort into investigating because they don't see them as victims.

I also think this episode tries very hard to paint Dean in a negative light even prior to him killing Amy. Bobby insists Dean's concern over Sam's well-being isn't warranted when it is perfectly warranted. (We've seen Bobby brush off Dean's reasonable concerns before in 6.06). Then Sam pops off, cutting Dean off to throw a bunch of nonsense in his mouth, and conflating himself with Amy in an absolutely ridiculous way. Dean's voice is suppressed (which is also imo—a prominent feature of the Dabb era in general later in the series). On top of that, this certainly isn't the only episode where Dabb and Loflin's most overt messages try to bias the audience against Dean.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

You Know Now It Makes Sense Stolas’ Character Evolved Into What It Is

Seriously, when I found this tidbit it makes sense why Stolas evolved from being treated like an actual demon lord rather than the sad woobie he is now. I think she put some of herself in him because she tries to see herself as one of those not so bad elitists who have little care for the poor but are able to interact with them on some level. But yeah, with the fact that she comes from privilege it makes sense she’s having this tantrums because despite her being a sjw she really is someone who hasn’t had anyone say no to her and not to mention it makes sense now why celebrities are coming to her project because she’s getting her rich relatives to help her. 

This isn’t a case of a girl of humble origins rising through the industry this a case of nepotism and she can’t handle the fact that she isn’t being praised and isn’t okay with being said “no”. She has had everything handed to her and can’t handle the pressures that someone is pointing out her flaws. She has been coddled too long that it has caused to become such a brat. As a result, when the time comes for the big meltdown it will probably be when the big mess in story comes and everyone just gives up on her. But even then she still refuse to realize that she needs to stop acting like a primma dona and improve herself. Because someone who has been sheltered that long it’s hard to get out of your comfort zone. 

In it you see the same thing with Stolas, because he comes from a place of comfort and still is being treated like he hasn’t done anything wrong even though it negatively effects his daughter. While Stella can be written as irredeemable and abusive, I think trying too hard to make her one note made it more apparent it was just to make Stolas more sympathetic rather than make Stella any sort of compelling character. She’s just a tool to make Stolas be even more justified in finding love with Blitzo even though it’s toxic itself. If she had made him remain where he was in the pilot then we could see him more of a villainous figure rather than a poor sad boy whose actions are always excused. The same thing with Vivzie and her fanbase where everything is excused because she’s a queer woman and not thinking about how others are speaking out against her. They just see a vision of her that she wants to present just like Stolas when in reality both are just awful people trying to look for an excuse to be the victim. 

[flxfthm]

like, so, felix is the holder of the miraculous of emotion and his plan was flawed from the start because he created red moon out of anger. there wasn't a logical error ladybug could exploit because he had that covered, if he was THAT evil that all he wanted was killing people then he won. but this is the show where the monsters of the week are people in vulnerable Emotional states who use their powers to lash out at the world. & felix is ESSENTIALLY an akuma, but the metaphor changes from a person who's momentarily upset to an individual whose anger is the result of several years of pain, which matches the SCALE of the damage done.

and so the confrontation with ladybug is huge because this is her first enemy where the solution is not so simple because there's no butterfly or feather to purify or whatever, it's felix's own shortcoming to realize. and it had people stumped because it wasn't a conventional downfall, ladybug didn't do anything by herself with a heroic speech or sudden power-up that lets her defeat felix with innate moral superiority, since it would miss the point. felix is an extremist that genuinely sees himself as an underdog fighting for a group that can't defend ifself, and he's not completely wrong but whatever his intentions are, cannot be justified by the approach he takes. and since the flaw doesn't lie in his beliefs, or arguably even the reason why he's lashing out, he has to be faced with the consequences of his recklessness and realize that "freedom" is not just whatever he feels is right. and it's genius because ladybug EXPECTS him to do the right thing, so it still leaves felix with the autonomy of making his own choices, and trusting that there IS good in him, and that his worldview is horrifyingly twisted by years of trauma. and in the end felix is betrayed by his own emotions when he once again realizes how alone he is, when he's confused by adrigami's fear in contrast to his happiness, when he's once again excluded after they choose marinette over him, and finally when he realizes he let the worst of himself take over to the point of cruelty, indistinguishable from his father, and only adding more salt to the wound when he has to pity-kill his own sister because to the end he still hangs onto his values and refuses to strip one of their own free will. he doesn't get a linear and explicit "redemption" (term LOOSELY used here) because felix's arc is more thematical and EMOTION-based rather than a series of actions which are meant to "prove" the change of heart that you can already see in his following episodes anyway. emotion will be hard to dethrone as the best episode of the show in how it's simultaneously straight to the point but also cleverly subtle in how much you can take from it in every single scene, & the way it takes full advantage of felix's potential as an antagonistic figure while taking him down using the one weakness that was there from the start

[queerprayers]

hello, i've recently come across more accounts similar to yours and they have really helped me feel closer to God. so for starters i appreciate you and everything you have to say is very insightful. i am new to Christianity (looking into Catholicism) but i have struggled with my relationship with God for a few years as i am queer. Anyway, all of that is not entirely related to my question. as i wasn't raised religious, i have done some things that i am not proud of that i hope won't ruin God's love for me. for example, i have said stuff that could be considered "taking the Lord's name in vain" such as saying "oh my god", "jesus christ", etc. do you think that is actually taking his name in vain? truthfully, i have been trying to cut down regardless as i love God and mean no offense but it's hard as i have said words carelessly in the past. i apologize for the longer text!!

Welcome, beloved, I'm so glad you're here!

This is always such an interesting topic and I'm sure I won't do it justice, but I'll try to answer your question. The third commandment has been oversimplified for a lot of Christians, and I do think we should take it seriously—but when we caught up with people saying "omg" casually, we miss a lot.

"Taking the Lord's name in vain" can encompass quite a bit: cursing God, swearing on God falsely (in the sense of making promises you don't keep), treating sacred things with disrespect, using God for your own gain, using God to justify evil actions, claiming God's name for harmful theologies—really anything that profanes/using hollowly/for profit the name/essence/qualities of God. "Name" is more than language—it's a presence. So is the third commandment addressing casualness with religious language? I don't think that's what it's specifically interested in, and because the Ten Commandments functioned communally/legally more than personally I'm inclined to say it's concerned more with the promise type of swearing and temple rituals, but I do think the philosophies behind these large things can be brought down to the personal language level, especially for those of us who aren't ancient Israelites.

An old anecdote from my church is that for years they had a plain wooden cross in the sanctuary, but my childhood pastor had a crucifix put up. (This was before I was born, and I'm so thankful I got to grow up with a full, embodied cross rather than an empty one.) An old lady stopped in her tracks that morning, staring up above the altar, and said "Oh my god." The pastor said, "That's right, he is." Besides being used to poke fun at this lady (who had probably never encountered traditional art of the crucifixion in her rural Protestant life) and as a justification for having a crucifix (to more fully confront God), it was also used by my mother to explain why we weren't allowed to say "oh my god" unless the situation necessitated it.

This has made me rethink some of the things I say—and I think there are lines here that we all have to draw. Many exclamations/curses are religious in nature (like damn or hell), and should we only say those when we mean the full essence of the thing? My mother thinks so, and I've gone back and forth. I think what we say matters, and carelessness should never be our framework. I also know that I don't get offended when people say things like "oh my god"—and I've definitely said it before, in way less necessary situations than confronting him bleeding.

When we look at all the things the third commandment can encompass, exclamatory swearing is surely at the bottom of the list in terms of what matters interpersonally and religiously. The megachurch pastor who uses God to sell things and the abuser who uses religion as an excuse are much more relevant to me. This is about your attitude toward your faith, how you want your language to reflect that, and how seriously you take words that are really only translations of a human approximation of a theological truth.

A line I draw is "Jesus" vs. "God"—one is the personal name of my god, and one is more of a title. I don't swear using Jesus's name, but I've dropped an "oh my god." I'm also more likely to use religious exclamations in the face of things I genuinely care about—I'll say "oh my god" to something beautiful but am more likely to say "shit" when I drop something. Is this all arbitrary? Of course! But the language we treasure and the language we're less careful with always is.

I won't tell you where to draw your lines, but I will say the best way to approach any of it is to notice these things—which you definitely are! Whether or not we end up changing something, it's always good to be aware of what we say and how it could affect us. So ask those questions, think through it all. Don't let casualness make you forget the enormity of what we're talking about when we say "God," but also, turn to God with every emotion and in every situation. Don't bring religion into everything because you're being careless—do it because it's where you and the universe touch.

To answer another (and in my opinion more important) question you've asked, no, God's love for you isn't ruined. I don't care what you've said, what you haven't cared about, what you've done—God's love is incapable of being ruined. This would imply weakness or unfaithfulness, which our faith does not characterize God with. And Christianity is firm that it is never too late to repent—meaning, to turn around and dedicate yourself to not going back. (God's love reaches the unrepentant as well, of course—it is a matter of whether we can see it and move through it, not whether it's there.) Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand—as in, it's always been here, it's happening now within you and your communities, and it will arrive.

Whatever changes you make and journeys you begin, God's love goes with you—it's not something we work toward having, but something we work toward honoring. It is hard to change habits—it's hard to change anything, and your dedication to thinking about this new part of your life is admirable.

I want to say don't get caught up in the smallest possible meanings of the commandments as you continue into Christianity, but I love that you are and that's not really the advice I want to give. What I mean is more, don't let this be a barrier. Every tiny thing is part of our lives, which means they can trip us up, be things to obsess over, be things we focus on to avoid other things, be areas we become perfectionist when that energy could be used more usefully. I am contributing to harm in countless ways that don't include swearing, and to be an imperfect human in this world, you are too. I give you permission to not let this be the hill you die on. Christianity calls us to be willing to die on so many hills, y'know? The enormity of our dedication can be overwhelming, but we move forward knowing the love of God is on our side.

The sacred Name has only ever been put into human words in the form of Jesus, and meeting him in both the sacred and ordinary is how I honor the Word. As I navigate the countless ways I exist and affect and am in relationship with the world, I come back to that. That true holiness can never be profaned, so I must not act as if it can be. When I find myself acting as if God could be hollow, I know I must turn back. I may embody this idea differently than you and others—we cannot all pay attention to everything at once. But I honor your commitment to the small things, and I pray that you live confident in the knowledge that nothing you have done or will do can stop God from entering into communion with you.

<3 Johanna